Welcome to the living well.

I am certain I already love the heck outta you, but in case you’re still unsure about me, here are some fun
real facts:

I’m a writer, and spend most days convincing myself I actually am.

I’m a wild and free spirit, secure in my place as a daughter of the King.

I practice and teach yoga as a union of mental, physical, and spiritual health.

I’m a recovering perfectionist. I used to live a life of falsehoods. Sometimes, I still do.

I like to doodle letters and drink coffee. A lot of coffee. Sometimes it makes my left eye twitch.

I’m in love with a PhD chemist. Our 5-year-and-counting marriage is beautiful because it knows ugly.

I don’t like pants, unless they are yoga pants. And Husband says those don’t even count as pants.

I bear the pain of infertility. Though, if I am completely honest, I don’t always feel it.

I currently live in Oxford, England. It is magic here.

Truth-telling is hard for me, because I fear rejection.

I am wild about marginalized people. The felon, the refugee, the loner. You can all sit with me.

Why living well?

I spent years trying on everyone else’s plan for living well, only to find myself tripping over routines too big and dreams too small. Fed up with failure, I started taking risks and stopped caring about what other people thought. When I began living in ways that made other people uncomfortable, I finally felt at home in my own life.

That’s when I realized, living well has to look different on everyone, in order for any of us to really thrive. Each journey to living well will look wildly different. But the brave space we step into to get there? That’s the same. Living well requires brave vulnerability of self and sincere championing of another.

It’s why I write. The vulnerable space frees me to live my best life, and hopefully, champions you to press on in yours.

There’s such grace in living well.

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